


Gabriel's Folly

by amythestice



Series: The Before, the After....the inbetween? [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythestice/pseuds/amythestice
Summary: Gabriel can't help pushing his luck; his luck has just run out.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Before, the After....the inbetween? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669438
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale handed Crowley a glass of wine, watching as he took it absently and set it aside.

“Is everything ok, Crowley dear?” he asked hesitantly.

They had had a lovely dinner, celebrating surviving their trials in Heaven and Hell, and after returning to the bookshop, Crowley had watched him with fond amusement as he wandered the restored shelves, checking all his old favourites were still there, among the somewhat dubious additions gifted by Adam; now though, Crowley was quiet, distant.

“I don’t think the final act has quite played out yet, Angel,” Crowley said softly.

“What?”

“Do you trust me Aziraphale?”

“Of course I do,” he said in obvious confusion.

“Gabriel is coming, and he is angry. I can’t quite tell if he’s alone or not, but whatever happens, whoever may or may not be with him, you _must not_ act as if anything you hear surprises you.”

“I…ok. What am I likely to hear?”

“No time to tell you now Angel, I really wish there was, but there isn’t,” Crowley sighed, rising to his feet.

He could feel the bonds she had placed on him at the Fall gently unravelling, releasing his Grace from where it had been hidden, sheltered, for millennia; it wasn’t all at once, nothing that would shock him to his knees when he most needed to be alert, but he could feel it, feel _himself_ flexing and stretching again.

_‘I would like to retain the serpent aspect,’_ he thought respectfully upwards, and felt a soft, amused, gentle reassurance that _nothing_ would be removed, She was simply freeing what was his by right.

The shop door slammed open then, locks meaning nothing to the beings who strode inside, fake smiles plastered to their faces. Gabriel and his smitey little lapdog Sandalphon, Crowley sneered mentally as he shifted to stand to Aziraphale’s left.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel boomed heartily, ignoring the Demon in the room.

“I thought we agreed, only a few hours ago, that you would be leaving us alone, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said coldly.

Crowley wanted to hug his angel for standing up to the asshole who had been belittling him for millennia; _not the time,_ he chided himself, watching the two interlopers closely.

“Yes, well, I had been thinking on your punishment, since your little display Upstairs, and I have decided that as you didn’t have the courtesy to die, and you liked playing with the hellfire so much, we might as well make it official. I am here to Fell you, A. Z. Fell,” he smarmed, both he and Sandalphon chuckling at his own joke.

“By what right?” Crowley asked softly, dangerously, cutting over their obnoxious chortling.

He could feel Aziraphale’s rising fear, and took a step forward and to the right, partially blocking their access and line of sight.

“Stay out of this, Demon, you will be dealt with soon enough. Downstairs agreed that a good, old fashioned smiting would be in order, after you had witnessed Aziraphale’s punishment, of course.”

“By what Right, Gabriel?” Crowley repeated, and this time, there was a different emphasis as Crowley stood straighter, his posture relaxing.

“By what Right do you impose a punishment that was intended only to be used once; by what Right do you presume to sentence an innocent to the Fall? Once could be considered an accident Gabriel, twice suggests a pattern.”

“You know nothing, Demon.”

“I know that there were two who were not meant for the Fall on the battlefield, where you had left them, when you gave the order. One, She pulled back to safety, the other unjustly Fell to the pit. I wondered Gabriel, I wondered for the whole duration of the Fall, if you had simply missed us, been careless, as She thought, or if you were truly willing to toss aside an innocent, wounded angel to rid yourself of a troublesome sibling whose only sin was asking questions She was more than willing to answer.”

“Raphael,” Gabriel hissed, rage flaring higher.

“Raphael,” Crowley agreed blandly, and behind him, Aziraphale thanked Her devoutly that Crowley had warned him to show no surprise.

“You were a traitor, you deserved to Fall,” Gabriel snarled.

“By whose order Gabriel?”

“You were healing the enemy, you were a traitor,” he roared.

“I was doing my sacred duty, healing the wounded, following Her directive. The choice was not yours to make, Gabriel; just as it is not your choice to make now. Aziraphale has done no wrong, he followed Her directive, he loved humanity as She wished all of us to do.”

“What would you know about it, hellspawn?” Sandalphon sneered.

Crowley smiled as the last of the bonds slipped away, allowing his Grace to flare bright and pure.

_“It is time, Gabriel. You are called to account for your actions, you may choose to face your charges here and now, or return to Heaven and face them before the Host,”_ Her voice was unmistakable, despite not having been heard since the humans were evicted from Eden.

“You heard Her Gabriel, here or there, the choice is yours. Either way, Aziraphale will not be the one taking a Fall today.”

“I have done nothing wrong; I have nothing to hide from the Host,” Gabriel said arrogantly, drawing himself up straighter than ever.

“Then off you pop, we’ll see you up there,” Crowley told him with a smile.

Gabriel stormed out, followed a little more slowly by Sandalphon, who cast one last look over his shoulder before ascending back to Heaven.

“Raphael?” Aziraphale queried weakly.

“Crowley, it’s the name I chose for myself, not the one given by Up _or_ Downstairs. _Nothing_ has changed aside from the ease with which I can access my Grace, I swear to you Aziraphale. Can you hold it together a little bit longer? We need to go and deal with this Gabriel situation, and then I promise we’ll talk.”

“Nothing has changed?”

“Nothing. I am still the lovestruck idiot who was gone on you the moment you told me you had given that bloody sword of yours to Adam and Eve,” he told him. Not the ideal time or situation for a confession of love, but Aziraphale needed to hear it right now.

“Oh, _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale whispered, feeling tears welling for a moment before he forcibly pushed them down and straightened his shoulders.

“Yes, my dear, I can hold it together as long as you need me to. What now?”

“Now, we head Upstairs for a _genuine_ trial. You may be called on Angel.”

“I refuse to be intimidated by him any more Crowley. Shall we go?”

“Yes, lets,” Crowley nodded; it was finally time for Gabriel to answer for his actions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial begins.

The Bentley pulled to a halt outside the main building, and the two of them got out, both eyeing the innocuous looking façade.

“Come on angel, lets get it over with,” Crowley sighed, and they moved to the doors in step, striding inside.

Crowley felt the floor ripple slightly under his feet, trying to move him to the down escalator, but he doggedly resisted for the half dozen steps it took to convince the floor he wasn’t heading downstairs today.

“Are you all right dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, just the floor trying to route me downstairs, it’s stopped now.”

Riding the escalator to the top, they found the usually cavernous echoing white room that overlooked the Earth rapidly filling with angels who had been called to attend what was to come.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a soft susurration of Aziraphale’s name, and the words traitor and demon. Aziraphale kept his eyes forward, fixed on their destination at the front of the room where Gabriel stood looking smugly confidant, flanked by Michael and Uriel, though he did notice with some surprise that Sandalphon stood off to one side of the group looking thoughtful and a little lost.

“What is the meaning of this, why have we been summoned here?” Michael demanded.

“And why have you brought a demon into heaven?” Uriel sneered a beat afterward, looking down at Crowley.

“Hasn’t Gabriel told you?” Crowley asked curiously.

“He said we were to witness a judgement, but you have already both been judged, twice over in your case, demon,” Michael said coldly.

“The judgement we are here for is Gabriel’s own, Archangel Michael, called by God for his misuse of the powers he was entrusted with millennia ago, and his attempt to misuse them once again today,” Aziraphale replied quietly, keeping his head high.

“You lie,” Uriel hissed.

There was a soft chime, and the Metatron faded into view, looking over the room from his position above them all.

“Ah, everyone is here then, good. Gabriel, take your place in the dock,” Metatron intoned.

Still looking smug and confidant, Gabriel strode over to the raised area, blind to the shock on the faces of Michael and Uriel, and only Crowley noticed how few of the Host seemed surprised that Gabriel was facing judgement.

“Archangel Raphael, will you be laying the charges against Gabriel?” Metatron asked mildly.

Crowley waited, watching everyone looking around the room for Raphael, who no one had seen or heard from since the War, hearing the confusion and speculation rising.

“I will,” Crowley acknowledged, releasing all six of his wings from their confinement and summoning his staff to his hand, casting the room into an echoing, shocked silence.

“But, you’re a _demon_ ,” Uriel’s whisper was loud and harsh in the hush.

Crowley fluffed black wings and raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“Really, whatever gave it away?” he asked sarcastically.

“Who will speak in Gabriel’s defence?” Metatron asked before this could degenerate any further.

There was a tense silence, no-one seeming to want to put themselves on the spot of whatever was going on here. Michael looked for a moment like they were going to reluctantly volunteer when Gabriel snorted.

“I can speak in my own defence; I have done nothing wrong,” he said firmly.

“As you wish, then we shall begin. Archangel Raphael, speak the charges to be answered by Gabriel.”

Crowley shot Aziraphale a smile as reassuring as he could manage and stepped away from him, moving forward to where the other Archangels stood while keeping apart from them and turning to face the room.

“I charge that Gabriel used the power to Fell angels against two innocents in the last battle of the War. I charge that Gabriel has disregarded and disobeyed God’s own orders regarding her creation, the Earth. I charge that Gabriel abused his authority over those under him. I charge that Gabriel, in the wake of the halting of Armageddon, attempted to execute the Earth operative without due process or trial. I charge that once again, this very day, Gabriel attempted to misuse the power to Fell an angel against an innocent.”

The room erupted into a restrained chaos of babbling voices, not quelled even by Metatron’s calls for silence. Finally, Crowley slammed the butt of his staff against the pristine white floor, the sharp crack silencing them all.

“These are the charges I bring forth,” he finished formally.

Michael looked sick at the charges, wondering how many of them could also be justifiably be laid also against the rest of them, and suddenly understood the troubled expression Sandalphon had worn since he and Gabriel had returned from their brief visit to Earth, seeing the same awareness dawning in Uriel’s eyes as they both stepped over to stand with Sandalphon.

“The charges have been laid; they will be answered in order. Begin, Raphael,” Metatron intoned.

“The charge that Gabriel used the power to Fell against two innocents. I was on the battlefield, healing a wounded angel when Gabriel recalled the host and ordered the Fall. He made no effort to ensure that I, or my charge, were safely behind the gates before giving the order, causing both myself and my charge to be swept toward the edge of heaven.”

“How do you answer this charge, Gabriel?” Metatron asked.

“Raphael was a _traitor_ , healing Lucifer’s supporters,” Gabriel replied, his tone cold.

“But Raphael was _neutral_ , he was _supposed_ to heal all who needed healing,” Uriel rasped, voice uncertain.

“And that does not answer the charge of the second innocent, the wounded angel,” Crowley pointed out softly.

“I was unaware that there was an innocent remaining on the battlefield,” Gabriel shrugged. Admitting carelessness was better than admitting that he had considered the angel an acceptable loss.

“Liar,” the voice rang out from somewhere within the Host, and someone pushed their way forward.

Aziraphale was startled to see the rather shouty quartermaster he had last seen after his discorporation during the failed Armageddon step out from the Host, glaring at Gabriel even more virulently than he had glared at Aziraphale for losing both body and flaming sword.

“The healer might have been too focused on trying to save me to notice you, but I could see you at the gate. You were looking directly at us when you gave the order, you knew we were within the range of both the gate and the Command,” he spoke firmly, his voice, meant for ordering large numbers carrying clearly.

“But _you_ did not Fall, your innocence saved you,” Gabriel pointed out smugly.

“The sacrifice of the healer Raphael saved me, he gave himself up to the Fall to ensure I remained in Her Grace,” the quartermaster countered.

“Speculation, there is no proof of that,” Gabriel denied.

“ _There_ is your proof, the Archangel Raphael may be darkened, may be a demon, but he still shines with Her Grace,” the quartermaster gestured at Crowley as he spoke, pointing out the obvious.

Crowley twitched slightly as he felt every eye in the room studying him closely but gave no other outward sign of the discomfort he was feeling.

“I did what I had to do to safeguard heaven,” Gabriel dismissed.

“I disagree,” this interjection came from Michael of all people.

“If they were within range of safety, you should have ensured they were safe. You _chose_ to cast out both Raphael and Iriel, they had done no wrong and did not deserve to Fall.”

“Do you have anything further to say in your defence, Gabriel?” Metatron enquired.

“I stand by my statement; I did what was needed.”

“Very well, the vote on the first charge is called. All present will now vote,” Metatron decreed.

Votes in heaven were always silent, so none could be swayed by the thoughts of those around them. Aziraphale felt the pull and with a sigh, voted guilty. Even if he tried to set aside his personal feelings of what Gabriel’s actions had done to his own sibling, to Aziraphale’s friend, the quartermaster had deserved none of it.

“The vote is tallied, we will now proceed to the second charge,” Metatron declared, the results of the votes would be held until all charges had been answered.

This was going to be a very long night, Aziraphale mused gloomily, wanting little more than to be back in his bookshop with Crowley, this evening, before Gabriel and Sandalphon had invaded and set all this in motion.


	3. Chapter 3

“The charge of disregarding and disobeying God’s orders regarding Her creation. That order was to love them as we loved Her,” Crowley spoke into the silence.

“That order precipitated the War,” Michael pointed out.

“Yes, yes it did, and those who objected to that order, who did not believe the humans were worthy of that love; they were the ones who Fell. Those who remained here, in Heaven, were _supposed_ to be the ones who would adhere to that order, to love the humans as She wished, and the Archangels should have been an example to the rest of the Host. Gabriel has shown nothing but contempt for them.”

“You can’t _prove_ that,” Uriel said, not a true objection, just unsure how you could prove something so subjective.

“Really? One example of direct disregard, of contempt for the thoughts, feelings, and culture of the humans as they developed: the human mother of Christ. He appeared to her while she was alone, bathing, naked.”

“I don’t understand….” Uriel frowned.

“Nakedness, gender, they mean very little to celestial beings, I get that,” Crowley acknowledged, before forging on. “However, with human sensibilities and customs at the time, appearing to her as he did; he could have gotten her executed,” he spoke bluntly.

“What?” Uriel sounded genuinely shocked.

“He appeared to an unmarried young woman, to tell her that she was going to give birth to the son of God. Society at the time wouldn’t have understood, they would have assumed she had lain with someone outside of wedlock, she could have been sentenced to death for that.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Gabriel sneered.

“If you had _cared_ , you could have spoken to Aziraphale before carrying out your task, he would likely have told you to appear to _both_ Mariam and her intended. You could have asked advice from the Metatron, he had been human once, he would have understood the delicacy of the situation and advised accordingly. You could have spent some time actually _observing_ the people of Earth.”

“But she was not executed, so it is of no matter,” Gabriel dismissed.

“She wasn’t executed because Aziraphale went to Yusef and smoothed things over, convinced him of the truth, urged him to marry her sooner rather than later, all things _you_ should have done. But you just made your flashy entrance, told her something that left her terrified and confused, and left.”

Michael cast a glance at Aziraphale, one eyebrow raising interrogatively, and he hesitantly nodded his concurrence that he had ended up intervening in Gabriel’s mission to make sure things went smoothly and Her son would be born.

“That doesn’t prove the charge though, that could just be overenthusiasm for a momentous task,” Uriel put in fairly, though her expression soured a little at the smug look _that_ put on Gabriel’s face.

“Sandalphon, you have been on Earth with Gabriel any number of times, be _honest_ , how does he view humanity?” Crowley asked.

Sandalphon did not look happy at being put on the spot like that, in front of the assembled host.

“I…” he started, stumbling to a halt the moment the word left his mouth, he had looked up to Gabriel for an exceptionally long time.

“Speak, Sandalphon. Answer the question Raphael has put to you,” Metatron intoned.

“He looks down on them, they’re dirty, disorganized, chaotic, easily led to sin, they’re too curious, ask too many questions,” he said grudgingly.

“Ah, you always did have a problem with curiosity, with questions, didn’t you Gabriel,” Crowley sighed with a knife-like smile.

“They’re ungrateful animals, not worthy of Her love. They were given _paradise_ , and they threw it away. One simple instruction; don’t eat the fruit of a particular tree, one simple obedience, and they threw it in Her face the moment _you_ slithered up from Hell and whispered sin in their ears,” Gabriel exploded.

Crowley silently waited until the murmurs at the reminder that he was the serpent of Eden calmed down, and then turned his attention back to Gabriel.

“Gabriel, they were created to have free will, they were created to have choices. Yes, I tempted Eve to eat the ‘forbidden fruit’, but that had absolutely bugger all to do with me being a demon. My original task, before you decided to get creative and cast me out, was to _ignite_ the spark of free will, to give them that first choice; to know or not to know. All I did was carry out the task She had already given to me,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

Gabriel looked utterly poleaxed at that, though Crowley wasn’t entirely sure why, it should have been obvious even to him by now that She had had long term plans for humanity that didn’t include spending their lives pottering vacuously around a garden where all the creating had already been done.

“Do you have anything further to say regarding this charge?” Metatron asked.

“No,” Gabriel said shakily.

“No,” Crowley concurred.

“Then the vote is called.”

The vote took a lot longer this time, and Crowley suspected that a number of the host were hung up on the fact that they hadn’t exactly disagreed with Gabriel’s notion that humanity had displayed ingratitude for what they had been given at the start.

Eventually Metatron called the vote tallied and declared a short recess before the next charge would be brought forward. Crowley immediately left his position and hurried over to Aziraphale.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“Yes, I suppose so, I just, on the wall, you acted as if you didn’t know if you had done the right or the wrong thing, tempting Eve, but you knew you were always meant to give them that choice,” he huffed.

“I didn’t lie to you, if that’s what you’re thinking Angel, I knew it had been the task I was meant to carry out as an Archangel, but I had no way of knowing for sure if it was still to be my task once I was a demon. I just figured that when I still ended up in the garden, sent up to make some trouble, I might as well do it by doing _that._ Hell loved that humans had been tossed out of paradise, and I was still carrying out the original plan, win-win.”

Aziraphale nodded slowly, he supposed he and Crowley would end up having quite a lot to talk about when all this was over and done, but this wasn’t really the place for it, too many ears. His gaze slipped past Crowley’s shoulder, and he couldn’t stop himself tensing as Michael approached Crowley from behind. That was all the warning Crowley needed not to startle as she spoke.

“Raphael,” she started.

“Don’t call me that, my name is Crowley,” he growled, turning to face her.

“Crowley,” she reluctantly conceded.

“Did you need something?” he asked coldly.

“I wanted to apologize,” she sighed.

“What for?”

“Never looking for you after the final battle, never questioning Gabriel… carrying holy water into Hell to destroy you, and to Aziraphale for my actions toward him in the lead up to Armageddon.”

“It isn’t _you_ that needs to apologize to me for that, all you did was tell me to pick a side,” Aziraphale said stiffly.

“Yes, but I didn’t rein the other two in, and I should have done. I’m guessing Uriel at least will also approach you at some point to apologize,” she sighed.

“Ah, then I accept your apology,” he nodded.

She nodded to him and turned her eyes back to Crowley.

“Why _didn’t_ you look for me after the battle?” he asked curiously.

“Everything was so… raw. Lucifer and so many others had fallen and I just… I didn’t want to find that another sibling had fallen, or been destroyed, so I let myself believe… you’d always been so firmly neutral, I just let myself believe you had gone back out into the cosmos, divorced yourself from both sides and turned your back on us all. It hurt less to be angry at you for that thought than to contemplate either of the others.”

“All right, I can understand that, I guess. As to not questioning Gabriel, well, no one did, that’s how we’ve ended up here, and the holy water… probably circles back to not questioning Gabriel, you thought you were doing the right thing. Apology accepted,” he shrugged.

“Thank you,” she said, sketching a quick bow and walking quickly away, back to where the others stood.

“Well, that was a thing,” he mused to Aziraphale.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed.

“Ugh, I need a drink,” Crowley sighed as Metatron called them back to their places, he walked away to the sound of an amused snort from Aziraphale.


End file.
